Hey everyone! It’s me, Rodney (pronounced Road-ney in Italy, Raw-den-ee in Japan, Rout-knee in Denmark, Asshole in Korea, Bloody Jerk in the UK, Slack Ass Cow Pie in CT [but who really values CT anyway?], and Lord Over All That is Good in Dubai). How the hell ya doing?! Well, it is time to snuggle up against a cozy fireplace (alternatively, if you don’t have a fireplace, just burn down your neighbor’s house for warmth…just buy extra marshmallows), grab your favorite drink, and read my travelogue.

For those of you who are new on the list, a travelogue is a mildly interesting stream of conscious thought…a mix between truth and creative embellishment. Some find them funny, others find the delete key, but everyone agrees after reading of these documents…psychiatric counseling is definately in Rodney’s future.

So without further adieu, here is my travelogue, which was supposed to be issued more regularly than I actually do, but oh well.

Country Highlights for Italy (Rome and Milan)

Rome and Milan will be covered in a special edition travelogue.

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Country Highlights for Korea

“They’re Trying to Steal Me Lucky Charms” or “Cocktails with Rodney”

So many topics, so little time. I suggest that we talk about my American Airlines flight. My flight to Korea, business class, was split into two segments, Boston to Seattle, and Seattle to Korea. I flew on a Saturday. And I suggest you do the same. Apparently, saturday flights don’t come with screaming babies. Just rambuncious kids who tear up the coach cabin seats, pull on the hair of flight attendants, and otherwise behave like a rabid pack of angry care bears. It turns out that they were part of a family visiting from Ireland. So after taking my computer bag back from one of the leprachaun-looking kids in search of his lucky charms, the kids and I did guiness shoorts and I bid them all best wishes.

Seattle to Korea, however, was a much different story…this flight was an American Airlines code share. For those of us unfamiliar with the concept, it is when one airlines sells seats on another airline because the national government of that airline is afraid of competition. Not to worry though, every airlines who deals with American puts drugs in the coffee, so that you too can talk just as eloquently as George “Dubya” Bush. So, intoxicated from the American Airlines Lounge in Boston, a couple of in-flight cocktails on the plane, and maybe just a few drinks at the American Airlines Lounge in Seattle, I swagger over to Asiana Airlines, American Airlines ‘partner.’ I can’t see or hear so good, but I gather enough from the kind gentlemen with the thick Korea accent to know that he thinks I am waaay too intoxicated to get on the plane. With a determined look, I point a finger at him (or maybe two…it was blurry), and say “hey buddy…I’m an American citizen….A-mer-i-can, and if you think that you can have my hat, you are sorely mistaken…buddy.” He notices I am not wearing a hat, he places a phone call, and poof, I end up on the plane. With a pre-departure drink in hand…I wake up in Seoul…with a pre-departure drink not in hand (mental note…must call to complain…they owe me one pre-departure drink).

“North Meets South – East Meets West” or “We At the Army Have No Sense of Humor We Are Aware Of”*

The highlight of the adventure was the trip to the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ), that thin stretch of land that keeps North and South Korea from killing each other. We also went to the Joint Security Area (JSA), which was an area to designed for each side to keep a watchful eye on other and testing out the targeting device on the laser scope of highly sophisticated guns.

As we entered the DMZ, we were greated by a South Korean solider, whose only purpose to verify that we were not Koreans. After he reviewed my passport (looking at the cover of the passport), our bus driver sped though a obstacle course of hair pin turns to get us to Camp Casey, which is in the DMZ. Once we arrived at Camp Casey, we were led to another bus to the briefing center, where we were provided with an overview of 50 years of tension in seven minutes, filling the presentation with US propoganda. For example, an American soldier was dispacted to an area to cut down a tree. The North Koreans went there to observe them. As the soldier, Lt. Bonifas, was chopping down the tree, “two North Koreans wielding axes hacked Bonifas to death…and here is the picture one of our men took.” One can only wonder how is it that someone could snap a photo, but not help Lt. Bonifas. At the end of the presentation, the solider giving the overview that the camp slogan was “in front of them all.” I laughed out loud and said “ha ha…in front of the mall.” As they were handing out the security badges, that same soldier make me wear a target sign. But I lived through it.

We were actually allowed to step into North Korea, from part of a conference room in South Korea that is technically in North Korea. Swanky. I took pictures with the “soldiers who had no necks” and the “soldiers who looked like turtles.” Crazy stuff. After our trip through the JSA, we were allowed to eat lunch in the mess hall. If you’ve ever had Rich’s cooking, then you’ve had army food as well. After an unexciting lunch (I think I had the pork, judging by what I think was a misplaced snout in my salad), we went to an observation deck to see the North Korea propoganda village. No one lives there, of course, it is just there to say to the American and South Korean soldiers “we have a village.” It was cool to see. We then were taken to the third tunnel of aggression. This tunnel was intercepted by South Korea in 1978 as it was an attempt by North Korea to sneak attack South Korea. We descended 300 meters at 25 degree slope into the tunnel. Going down into the tunnel was not a problem. It was nice and cool inside the tunnel. However, beginning the ascent back up the tunnel was much harder, as at the 250 meter mark, the temperature jumps from 52 degrees to 92 degrees. And the people rolling back down to the base of tunnel made for an excellent obstacle course. I almost didn’t make it, if it weren’t for the fact that old lady in front of me (she used to be in the Army) hoisted me onto her back and took me up the rest of the way. Yeah, oatmeal will do that for ya.

* the credit for the accurate parts of this section belongs to someone else

“Country” Highlights for Southbury

There is nothing good about CT except when you are leaving it to head back to Massachusetts. Let us move on.

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Smooth Silk…Because Everyone Deserves to be Loved….

http://erebus.bentley.edu/students/w/willist_russ/ or http://web.bentley.edu/students/w/willist_russ/

(food dish, water bowl included)

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Country Highlights for Denmark

Well, now we have come to Denmark. In particular, the city of Copenhagen….

“Vestervoldgarde versus Vestervoldgarde” or “Lovely Day”

Denmark is actually a lovely country. It has lovely food and lovely weather. The people are lovely and even the dogs are well-behaved, and…uh…lovely. However, trying to understand Danish is quite difficult and unlovely…

A colleague and I had decided to eat at a popular restaurant named “Rio Bravo,” which apparently to the Danish, is the name you’d give a western US-style steakhouse. It is located at 86 Vestervoldgade. So we walked 15 minutes to the restaurant. However, when we got to 86 Vestervoldgade, there was no restaurant. In fact, we believe that it was a house, but steak was not on the family menu. Someone then offered their assistance (the Danish are lovely). She said “ohhhhhhhh, you mean Vestervoldgade. This is Vestervoldgade, not Vestervoldgade” (note the slight twinge on the ‘o’ between Vestervoldgade and Vestervoldgade). And then she pointed somewhere down the street. So we walked and walked and walked, taking in the brisk, and lovely, Denmark weather. Well, after a determined 10 minutes, we gave up and took a 2 minute cab ride to the restaurant. By the way, the restaurant was excellent and the food…lovely. Anyway, the moral of the story is that when you are in Denmark, make sure you don’t confuse Vestervoldgade with Vestervoldgade, unless you know the person at 86 Vestervoldgade. And if you do know them, invite me in…the food smelled lovely.

“Sometimes a Salad is Just a Salad (But Usually Not)” or “(Miracle) Whip It”

So, I figured we’d talk about Salad. Hmm…salad…it is what we eat when we think we need to watch our diet and eat healthy (before we add gobs of dressing, half a chicken or some unfortunate witless tuna plucked from the sea, many different cheesees, croutons, etc…and ruin the goal of a salad…but that is a different story).

I figured that I had eaten lunch pretty late and I was full. So I ordered a salad for dinner. I was expecting lush and leafy danish greens, succulent vegatables, all prepared “the danish way.” However, what was presented was some type of mayonaise-esque creation. Now, I know that there were “vegatables” somewhere in my “salad” because I saw something orange, like a carrot. However, after I ate my “salad,” I learned that it was not a carrot, but pickled herring. And there were apples, beet roots, and pickles thrown in there for good measure. In retrospect, US$12.00 for that guidebook doesn’t seem quite so unreasonable as it did when I was looking at it in the bookstore.

“Me No Understand-O” or “Fun With Translation”

So, I am at the British Airways counter, which is a partner with American Airlines (uh oh). And apparently, of all the english-speaking ticketing agents in the world, I happened not to get one. So I now present to you ‘Fun with Translation,’ which is 1) how I interpreted the conversation and 2) how the conversation probably went. I can’t speak a word of Dutch, so I’ll present it all in English….

**How I interpreted the Conversation**

Ticket Agent (TA): Mr. Cornelius, welcome, you sexay thang. Gimmer your ticket pudding and I’ll process it

Rodney: Yes, hello. I’d like to check in for my flight

TA: No problem Mr. Cornelius, just give me a moment while I review your travel itinerary and other information.

Rodney: Yeah, I kinda made this reservation at the last minte.

TA: No problem, Mr. Cornelius, I’m just finishing up, here is your ticket.

Rodney: That’s excellent, are we through here?

TA: Yes we are sir, thanks and enjoy your flight, at your preference, you can choose to have your meal in the lounge or on the plane.

Rodney: OK thanks bye…hmmm…something smells good, they must be serving pork chops on the plane.

**How the Conversation Actually Went**

Ticket Agent (TA): Hello Mr. Cornelius, thanks for flying British Airways…we are a bunch of stupid wankers and your captain today smells like a pork chop. How can I provide you with first class service today even though your seat is nowhere near first class and i’ve instructed the flight attendant to strike you with a tazer?

Rodney: Yes, hello, I’d like to check in for my flight.

TA: Sure thing, if I were competent, I do something other than stand here staring at you while flatulating.

Rodney: Wow, sense when did british airways start telepathic check-in? this is great. i’ll think of all the information you need and through telekentics, you can process the ticket and press the buttons and stuff, ok?

TA: You know, I hate you and I hope you die a slow and horrible death.

Rodney: That’s excellent, are we through here?

TA: Yes we are sir, I would say thank you, but instead, i’m gonna go to the back room and hang you in effigy. Ta ta.

Rodney: OK thanks bye…hmmm…something smells good, they must be serving pork chops on the plane.

Country Highlights for Basingstoke, UK

Here, we go farther into Europe to Basingstoke, UK. Basingstoke is located about an hour outside of London. The best thing going for Basingstoke the train that takes into London in about an hour. Well, to be sure, there were still more adventures to be had in the UK as well, which I’ll gladly share =)

“It’s A Small World After All (Part I)” or “How to Catch A Walrus in London”

In London I met a walrus. His name was Jerry Bookin-Weiner. Those of you who went to Bentley (and most who receive this e-mail) knew Jerry as either the Dean of International Education or as the Dean of International Advancement. Jerry, loving known as the Walrus, got his name because he is ‘hair follicle challenged’ and has a pointy yet curvy mustache with look like tusks. Meeting Jerry, whom I consider a personal friend, was a real treat. I suppose there’s nothing too funny about this story, except that Jerry is referred to as a walrus. In fact, I think all of my good friends are walruses, except my great friends, who are hippos. Anyway, let’s move on.

“Someone Broke the Love Connection” or “The Softer Side of Sears”

So, I went out on a….gasp…date in London with someone I met through a friend. I of course select a trendy restaurant, and I am wearing what I would consider to be nice clothing. The clothing is important because I had told them what I was going to wear so that they could recognize me. So, the evening of the dinner, my date shows up in a hideous outfit. It screamed “hey, I’m a bright outfit from Wally’s Discount Barn.” So bright in fact, that it distracted me from dinner. Halfway through the main course, I break down and say “this won’t work out, we can’t color coordinate and you don’t match tonight.” As you can imagine, the conversation died at about that point, and there was no goodbye kiss. And my friend won’t talk to me, as if it’s my fault that his friend discovered the softer side of Sears. See people, this is why I rarely date anymore. =)

Country Highlights for Dubai, United Arab Emirates

Well, I must admit that upon reading about Dubai, I was a little concerned. Arab cultures are usually the cultures that I have the most trouble assimilating into, because of all of that stuff with the Islam, the Koran, ad nausiem. However, when I got here, I was pleasantly surprised. Dubai is suprisingly “Westernized” and it was a pretty good time. Of course, that didn’t stop my from having adventures, so I am more than happy to share.

“It’s A Small World After All (Part II)” or “How to Catch A Walrus in Dubai”

It seems that I am being followed around by the globe by a walrus. His name is Jerry Bookin-Weiner, and was the Dean of International Advancement at Bentley and a good personal friend. Jerry, loving known as the Walrus, got his name because he is ‘hair follicle challenged’ and has a pointy yet curvy mustache with look like tusks.

“Fashion Deficient” or “Get Outta that Moo Moo, You Silly Woman”

For those that know me, nothing brightens my day more than a sale at the Gap. Except there are no Gap stores in Dubai. But there was a place which I affectionately call “Moo Moo Palace,” a place for the portly women of Dubai to have table cloths sewn together for them, instead of them having to do it at home themselves. Everyday I would go grab something to drink, and steak my seat outside of Moo Moo Palace. It was actually one of the better experiences in Dubai. I counted over 150 designer Moo Moo, from classic to modern, high style to casual. And if you’ve never seen a high style moo moo, it’s basically trash bags with rhindstones. At one point, I thought I saw Sally Struthers and Luciano Pavirotti go into the store, but it could have the morning martinis playing tricks with my vision. But hey, they only cost about US$15 and I think I found a gift for my aunt.

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Well, that’s all the time I have for right now. Take care and chat with you all laterz! =)

Ciao,

Rodney

Well, well, well…I know that it has been a while, but I finally have some time to write a travelogue for you. First, let me explain what my travelogues are. Basically, from time to time, I wax poetic about some of the experiences I have while traveling. Ideally, they are all true, but that would be implying that some of the experinces are false, when I have just previously stated that they are true. So I invite you to make your opinion. Maybe, I’m just a big, fat dork with an overactive imagination. Anyway, enough about me. Second, let me explain why I did not write travelogues between India and now.

Four Words: Minnesota and New Jersey

What the hell goes in either place?

I had the pleasure of going to Minneapolis, Minnesota, where the whole city is built on George Jetson-like skyways. And the national pastime is “watching for lost people in the skyways so that we can help them out,” according to Jeb, who was Marge’s brother and husband. Among other things to pass the time, Jeb watches grass grow, gets a daily supply of milk from something he believes to be a cow, and often gets trapped in the tailgates of pick-up trucks for hours at a time.

New Jersey, however, was quite a different story. Ahh Jersey (or as Guido the bellboy would say it “Joy-see”), what a place it was. It remains the only city on the planet where I had to bargain for my own stolen wallet. And where a bucket of bullets comes with every happy meal. Will someone please explain why New Jersey exists? My theory is that New Jersey is one big set of highways. There are at leaast 4….or 18 million. But I stopped counting because Guido the bellboy stole my calculator as well.

So, anyway, the moral of the story above is that you never have a need to visit New Jersey or Minnesota unless the prospect of being a transcontinental sex slave sounds like a better career than you have now.

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If you were on the subway, and a cyclops got on the train, would you stare. Submit your answer to [email protected].

You will be entered into a lucky draw for a post card, signed by me. Losers get the finger. Good luck!

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**Espana…Otherwise Known As Spain**

“Getting There Is Half The Fun” or “Leaving On A (Crusty) Jet Plane”

Well, let’s begin these the way that we always begin these things. Let’s start with American Airlines, preferred carrier of those who would write travelogues. It all starts as soon as I see the plane, which is an old 767-300. The plane number here is not important, just that it was old. As it pulled away from the gate, the pilot seemed to be struggling to hold the plane together. Engineers worked dutifully on the plane with American Airlines standard tools: duct tape, a stapler, and a ball of yarn. You’d think these items wouldn’t work, but there something special about American Airlines. They are something special flying in the air. Just like Amtrak. And I think it has everything to do with the fact that they now smuggle angledust in the coffee filters instead of coke. So anyway, I managed to be able to fly business class, which one would expect would be cool. One would also expect that fat people at the movies wouldn’t order a large popcorn, a large soda, a bag full of candy, and expect a small diet coke to balance it out, but you’d be wrong there as well. Let’s just say that the experience was unpleasant, but like the pain of sobriety, I lived through it.

“What You Talking About Willis” or “‘O’ Boy”

Once we land, everyone starts talking this crazy talk. It turns out to be Spanish. They were all like “blah blah blah” and I was all like “yes-o, my-o name-o is-o Rodney-o.” Unamused by the fact that I thought that simply adding the letter “o” to everything was “good ’nuff” Spanish, I was nearly detained by customs. But after some apologies and a bribe, I was on my way to the hotel.

“Would You Like A Room To Go With That Pillow” or “Tuesdays With Rodney”

It get to the hotel, ready (I thought) to check in, as I had made “reservations.” Now, let me explain the concept of reservations. A reservation is the strangest thing. Depending on who books your reservations, sometimes they are an agreement between you and an establish for a service. Other times, a reservation is a concept which means that they told you in Spanish that they have no rooms, but you didn’t understand them. Although I was in the former, it seems that someone lost count of the number of rooms in the hotel. So, as you can imagine, I had an interesting conversation…hmmm…where will this lead…I’ll put in the benefit of translation for you….aren’t I sweet.

__Conversation I Thought I was Having__

Me:

Hello, I have a reservation.

Snotty Front Desk Man:

What is your name?

Me:

Rodney Cornelius

SFDM:

Please wait in the lobby while we get your room ready.

Me:

OK.

SFDM:

Would you like to take a coffee while you wait?

Me:

Neat-o (yeah, like I’d use neat-o, which is not swell at all)

__Conversation As It Likely Happened__

Me:

Hello, I have a reservation.

SFDM:

Hace tan mitad del mundo, usted estúpido, jackass mudos. Cuál es su punta?

(So does half the world, you stupid, dumb jackass. What is your point?)

Me:

Soy ouevos mexicanos con chile.

(I am a mexican omlette with peppers)

SFDM:

Si los cyclops consiguen en un tren, miraría fijamente él. Usted debe terminar la encuesta en [email protected]

(If a cyclops gets on a train, I would stare at him. You should complete the survey at [email protected])

Me:

Muy Bien

(Very Good)

SFDM:

Le espero dado

(I hope you die.)

Me:

Neat-o

(Neat-o)

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Coming Soon:

If you went to Bentley, you know them. And now, Richard and Brian want to get to know you. Talk with them live at [email protected]

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“Rodney, Tuan, and Ahmed’s Excellent Adventure” or “Fast Car”

Well, the first day we were here, we thought that we would rent cars. After all, I have driven in Boston for over 7 years, so I have been road-tested and approved. Well, since I drive, those who have driven with me know that I actually refuse to navigate, instead relying on the knowledge and sense of direction to get us where we need to go (note I still think I drive up to New York). So the first day, following other people’s directions, I get lost. The second day, I get lost trying to get to work. As it turns out, this crazy talk also has a written language associated with it. Every sign, while helpful to those who can speak crazy talk, seemed to say something to the effect of “donkeys can be traded for shoes at next left.” It probably said something different, but again, it was crazy talk. Eventually, one the first day, it only took me and my associates 2 hours to get from the airport to the hotel (normally a 30 minute ride) and 4 hours to get to work the second day (normally a 45 minute ride). Needless to say, we traded in the cars for taxis.

Anyway, as I continue to have more adventures, I shall continue to write more. Of course, if you would not like to receive these pearls of wisdom, well…I don’t know what to tell ya.

Until next time.

–RC–

This travelogue was bought to you by American Airlines: “We Fly High”

and

The Kingdom of Spain Travel Office: “Come-o To-o Spain-o”

Yeah, I figured that you all need some more excitement in your lives. That’s way I present my Japan Travelogue. Sponsor-free this time (buy pork rhinds!). Although the next Travelogue will be sponsored by Cathay Pacific, a member of the American Airlines’ OneWorld Alliance. You can only imagine how that story’s gonna end, eh? My apologies in advance for the oncoming spelling errors and grammatical mistakes you’ll see. On a different note, I have some cool photos of South Africa. Let me know if you want to see highlights of them, and I’ll put them into a zip file. Eventually, all pictures will get onto my website. I’ll let you know when th website is up and running.

My impression of Tokyo (and Japan) overall is that I really enjoy this city. However, it is a very big city. But the service is beyond compare with anywhere else I have been, including Singapore. And I got a massage. Their evil tactics are to give you the best 30 minute massage you’ve ever had for 29 minutes, during which they ask questions for which the only answer is ‘yes’ (e.g. “do you wish you had a shotgun and a grant of immunity from congress?”, “do you laugh when I say the word ‘pork rhind’ in a Japanese accent?”, etc). Then on the 29th minute, the questions they ask are “would you sell your soul for a chocolate donut?” and “do you want to continue for 30 additional minutes for the price of a small nation?” I think 99% of the time both answers are yes.

So, where have I been in Japan:

I’ve been to the Pokemon Center in Tokyo. The nephews and nieces threatened to call immigration and have me sent back to Tokyo if I did not get them Japanese Pokemon cards. Of course, they can’t speak a word of Japanese yet, but I suspect that unlike science, they’ll take to interpreting Japanese Pokemon card with a frevor only found in one of my friend’s “acquisition” of Kerplakistani oil stocks (which if you owned 1000 shares, still wouldn’t be enough for an extra value meal at McDonalds or lunch at an classy joint like Friendly’s) And of course, there is the kid my sister baby sits, who demanded a Pokemon game only found in Japan. He’s admitted that he can’t read the instructions or the screen. His philosophy is that all kids are “bound together by the same Nintendo 64 control pad, instructions be damned.” So I caved. And I told his mother he sweared. So the chances he’ll get to play that game are nil to zero. The score:

People Who Hate Puke-mon (Pokemon): 1

Kids Who Cause Something Dumber than Barney to be Significantly Over-valued: 0

I visited Electronic City, had my manager take my credit cards to keep me from purchases I’d regret later, and still found enough yen to get a flash bulb for my camera. We also visited the Oriental Bazaar, where I bought a pair of Japanese swords (a great way to settle conflicts, yet gentle enough to slice carrots for the party platter), some peach wine, and other spirits, none of which had any religious significance and most of which will be gone before I get to U.S. Customs. Finally, I ended the weekend with a trip to Asakusa (sp?) to the temple there. I washed myself in some “fumes” they had (combine cherry incense with the scent of bad breath), washed my mouth with some “spiritual” (of the religious variety) community water (see “fever,” later in this e-mail), and got a horrible fortune that I would be stricken by misfortune, including medical ilness and financial loss (see “fever” and “evil stock market”, later in this e-mail). But after 4 or 5 bad fortunes, and 600 yen, I finally got a good fortune. All of the other fortunes were promptly tied to the tree near the temple (that is the tradition with bad fortunes), where I was surpassed by a German woman who must have gotten at least 7 or 8 bad fortunes. Perhaps that was my good fortune, so I left fulfilled.

I’ve also been to Mt. Fuji. Interesting hill of dirt. We are able to get pretty far up the mountain and got some beautiful pictures. Then we visited the Hanoke valley, took a cruise one of the less touristy lakes. It was cool, we almost crashed into a fisherman’s boat, and I learned some Japanese swears. And then finally, we returned to a touristy area, took a sky ride to the top of a mountain adjacent to Mt. Fuji, did some Zen-esque meditation, snapped some photos, and came down the mountain. There was a little hill on top of the mountain and that those who were truly brave climbed. I was one of those individuals, although I thought I was going to give up and roll down the hill several times before I got on top of the trip. Truth be told, the zen-esque meditation was actually kneeling on the ground and continually gasping for air. Of course, as is my life, the 80-year old Japanese couple who were going up the hill besides me did cartwheels and backflips all the way up.

I also visited the Metropolitian building, which had a nice, if not hazy, view of Japan. Did some walking around and I can now tell the difference between Roppongi and Akasaka (both are sections of the city of Tokyo) In Roppongi, they took Gap’s “everybody in leather” advertising a little too literally…let’s just say that I mistook some pleasantly plump people for cows. And I visited the temple nearby the Tokyo tower, although I can’t remember its name. I also visited the Imperial Palace, which has some beautiful gardens. Interesting story here: I saw a cherry blossom tree that was beginning to bloom (rather early for Japan), so I wanted to take a picture. So I took a picture and when I went to put my camera way, a flash went off…from someone else’s camera. They had taken a picture of me. At first I figured it was my wily charms. But as it turns out, black people in Japan is similar to a great meal at Friendly’s…both are rare. At this one chinese restaurant near where I am working, I have them convinced that I am Micheal Jordan and that I am doing commercials for IBM in Japan. I would tell them the truth, but I get extra rice with every meal there, so I am trying to let them down gently.

During the week, I also visited a town outside of Tokyo named “Kawasaki.” It was a great town. And the people were very helpful. I had happened to take a bus out to the IBM site, which I passed because I was lost. So I was still on the bus when everyone got off. Translated, that was the last stop. But I remained on the bus, convinced that we’d move sooner or later. Five minutes passed. And then ten minutes. During which time the bus driver was waiting for me to get off of the bus. Finally, he began speaking in Japanese, the most frequent term being “gaijing” which means “foreigner.” I smiled. He then continued to talk for about a minute, during which time I said “hai” (means “yes”) repeatedly. And then someone passed by the bus. He ran off the bus to get to get the woman, chanting and pointing to the bus “blah blah gaijing gaijing gaijing blah blah gaijing.” Both laughed. Laughed some more. And after a few final chuckles and one or two more “blah blah gaijings,” the woman and the bus driver came onto the bus and the lady informed me that this was the last stop. I told her I was looking for the IBM Bus Stop (yes, in other countries, IBM buys road signs and bus station stop names). I then paid again and the bus driver let me off at the IBM Building, which amazingly, had a big sign on it that said “IBM.” You could hear the driver snickering to himself as I got off the bus “blah blah gaijing.”

I’d like to present what I thought our conversation was and what it translated into. Since I can’t write in Japanese and most computers don’t have Japanese character support, English will do just fine…note that BD = Bus Driver.

**How I interpreted the conversation**

BD: Sir, would you like to rest here a little longer until you are ready for the challenges of work?

Me: Yes.

BD: (Pointing to the door) Do you like this green exit door?

Me: Yes.

BD: Would you give your soul for a chocolate donut?

Me: Yes.

BD: Do you find it funny when the Japanese try to say “pork rhind”?

Me: Yes.

BD: May I leave the bus so that I can talk to this attractive woman?

Me: Yes.

When he comes back onto the bus with the woman:

BD: This woman is a member of the Heaven’s Gate Cult. Can she talk to you?

Me: Yes.

**How the conversation probably went**

BD: Sir, would you get off the damn bus, I am now 10 minutes late. You ass.

Me: Yes.

BD: Get off of the bus. May you explode into a ball of fire, fat pig.

Me: Yes.

BD: Holy Dali Lamma, why are you foreigners so stupid?

Me: Yes.

BD: You smell like pork rhinds.

Me: Yes.

BD: Hopefully this woman speaks English. You’re a dumb ass. You weigh my bus down with your extreme fatness.

Me: Yes.

When he comes back onto the bus with the woman:

BD: Get off the damn bus, you ass.

Me: Yes.

This weekend I did nothing, as a fever has kept me secluded in my room. The cleaning staff put on those little doctor’s masks before coming in. I told them I understand (I said “I hate you and I hope you get sick?” Same difference.). It was disappointing as this was going to be the weekend that I was going to visit Hiroshima. But alas, I am sure that we’ll be back here. Top this off with Governor Bush winning the SC primary and my 401(k) losing 15% of its value because I created a portfolio tied so closely to the evil stock market, and you can see why I am ill this weekend. At least that loss was value only ate into the gains my 401(k) make and not actual contributions (good fortune).

So onto Hong Kong for a weekend, and then off to Bangalore, India, where there are cows in the street. And cows potentially wander into hotels. Should I find a cow in my hotel room…let’s just say I’ll need a flame thrower, a bucket of A-1 steak sauce, a plastic fork, and a steak knife.

Peace,

Rodney

Well, it is a new year and I figured that I’d start it off right…with a travelogue! For those of you who never have received these before, let’s just say that they offer an unique perspective of the highlights of my travels to date.

Putting the lengthy monologue aside, let’s just right into the story…

**The Plane Ride**

It all begins as I am boarding the plane. Can you guess which plane I am boarding? If you said an airline with reputable service and a commitment to quality, then obviously, you didn’t pick American Airlines. To give you a hint of what I was in for on my latest adventure with American Airlines, as I board the plane, I look at the flight deck door and I notice that a towel has been stuff underneath it (those who are RAs know where this is going). Then, to my amazement, the flight deck door swings open, and who is the first to walk out?

WHITNEY HOUSTON with a joint in her hand, staggering around the plane singing her latest hit, “It’s Not RIght, But It’s OK”

Nervously, I find my seat. Then I noticed that someone was in my seat. It seems that we were both issued the same ticket. So I try to find a flight attendant, which is the equivalent of trying a smurf in the forest. I look in the business class section, I look under the toilet seat, I even look in the first class section. But all I find at every turn are hot ashes from Whitney’s joint. Some time later, a meandering flight attendant makes his over to our area and he simply tells the other guy to move. Now, I am ready to relax. But guess what else American Airlines comes with? You guessed it…FREE SCREAMING BABY. Apparently, there were a lot in stock, because most of them ended up on the plane. Anyhoo, to make a long story short, the planes leave (late from the gate as usual), and we arrive in England. Yeah baby yeah.

**”Rodney Learns Italian”**

During the audit, there emerges the possibilty that Rodney will **have** to fly to Milan to conduct some on-site interviews. So, I stop by the Air Italia Airlines desk to try and arrange a ticket. I also figured that this would be a great time to test my Italian. (Note to Self: Learn Italian before attempting to speak it). So what follows below is a transcript in the following order: 1) The conversation in Italian; 2) The conversation as I interpreted it; and 3) What actually might have been said.

1) The Conversation In Italian

Me: Ciao

Her: Come posso aiutarlo?

Me: L’ asino ha rubato il mio automobile e sta guidando ad Italia.

Her: Non capite una cosa. Colpo di malattia di maggio voi giù in Italia.

Me: Quel giraffe ha rubato il mio margarita.

Her: Siete troppo stupid da essere sopra fuori in pubblico.

Me: Sono fatto di formaggio.

Her: Sarete arrestati da sicurezza. E taglieremo le vostre parti riservate in moda da poterli avere voi capretti come ritardato mentre siete.

Me: Grazie.

Her: Li spero dado.

2) The Conversation as I interpreted it

Me: Hello

Her: How can I help you?

Me: I’d like one ticket to Italy please.

Her: I’d be glad to assist you with your ticket to Italy.

Me: That would be great.

Her: Let me arrange the details using your passport.

Me: Excellent. I am happy.

Her: Glad to help. Just clear the security gate.

Me: Thank you.

Her: Your welcome. Safe travels.

3) What actually might have been said

Me: Hello

Her: How can I help you?

Me: The donkey stole my car and is driving to Italy.

Her: You don’t understand a thing. May disease strike you down in Italy.

Me: That giraffe stole my margarita.

Her: You are too stupid to be on out in public

Me: I am made of cheese.

Her: You will be stopped by security. And we will cut off your private parts so that you cannot have kids as retarded as you are.

Me: Thank you.

Her: I hope you die.

So luckily, I did not make the plane ride and I had to stay in England. I was going to go to Milan for a weekend, but I figured that something bad would happen, so I went to London, hung out, got drunk, and generally pissed off a lot people.

**”Work that Brassier Old Man”**

So me and my work mates are off to visit Winsdor Castle, where the queen lives to unbridled oppulence. If they just sold 2 paintings that were in her “weekend home,” thousands of british could have better teeth. The Queen Mother, who was not at the castle that day, was out and about doing royal-type things. But I saw the Queen Mother on TV later that evening. The Queen of Frump was wearing this dreadful yellow ensemble. It made her look like Pikachu the Pokemon creature. Anyway, back to the story. As we were walking towards the castle, what do we see? An old man wearing NOTHING but a bra, a thong, and a garter belt. It was like being at Vassar. My mind could not process what we had just saw, so I almost passed out on the pavement. What was the nastiest thing about it was that he thong was beginning to come undone. Nightmares ensued for 2 nights. Thankfully, I did not have a camera, but the experience was made complete by Japanese tourists who was following this guy taking pictures. This really happened. I swear. And I have people to back it up.

**”Closing Thoughts”**

In between those things, there was nothing too exciting that was going on. Just your ususal good beer, bland food, bad teeth, and everything came with mushy peas. So what we have learned today? Nothing really.

See Ya!

–RC–

This latest edition bought to you buy:

“Rodney’s Travelogues: Work of Fact, Fiction, and An Active Imagination” (TM) and

Victoria’s Secret: “Undergarments for the discerning gentleman” (TM)

American Airlines: “Service So Transparent, It’s Non-Existent” (TM)